


A little help

by thelilnan



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilnan/pseuds/thelilnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little drabble before the Gobblepot break up scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little help

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pansaralance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansaralance/gifts).



“You need my help.”

It wasn’t an argument. It was a fact that both Oswald and Jim very well knew. It didn’t mean Jim agreed or was eager to admit this truth but Oswald’s smug insistence, coupled with the arrogance of a winning streak, made Jim grind his nails into the palm of his hand. His temple throbbed dully; a migraine waiting to happen.

“I don’t _want_ your help.”

Oswald narrowed his dark, tiredly alert eyes and pursed his thin, thin lips.

“I don’t care what you want, Jim Gordon. The fact is that I can do things you can’t. And I’m the only person on this side you can trust.”

“Is that right?” Jim’s face felt hot. He wanted to grab the little snot by his lapels and shove him against a wall but they were at his desk on the balcony and he had nowhere to safely shove Oswald that wouldn’t crack the kid’s spine.

Still.

“Yes,” the younger man bit back. Jim could feel heated anger spread down his throat and into his chest. Some dark part of him was egging his body on, to lash out and shut the kid up for once. He talked so _God Damn Much_. Too much for his own good.

“So trust me, Jim Gordon.”

“The last time I did that,” he growled, locking eyes with Oswald, “An officer’s wife nearly drowned. You said no one would get hurt.”

“It worked!” Oswald slapped his hand on Jim’s desk, holding firm despite the uncomfortable twitch in his bad leg, “And she didn’t die—”

“You’re no better than the rest of them.”

That one hurt him; Jim saw it clear as day, as if he’d taken an actual knife to Oswald’s gut. But this wasn’t the same man that had begged for his life so many months ago. This one had been through beatings and electrocutions and almost being crushed to death. This one was ruthless.

This one could survive.

Oswald straightened, baring his dingy teeth, “I am nothing like those men. I am far more dangerous.”

The air felt electrified, like a thunderstorm was forming between them. Jim huffed out a stiff breath, refusing to lose Oswald’s eye while Oswald did the same. The tension was enough to drown out the rest of the GCPD. Suddenly the phones stopped ringing, officers stopped chatting, and Jim’s attention was solely concerned with Oswald. The heat had spread throughout his body by now; it was in his chest and hands and inside his head. God help him, he couldn’t stop it this time. All he wanted was to strike him down, rage out all his frustrations and finally find some catharsis in a lifetime of burdening responsibility.

Jim grabbed his coat and pulled him close, kissing someone for the second time in the GCPD.

Oswald reacted like he’d anticipated it. (Maybe he had. He was clever like that.) Jim felt his cold, thin hands on his stomach, then his waist, clawing at him desperately to hold him close. Surprisingly, the man himself didn’t taste as foul as he might’ve guessed. Oswald tasted like spearmint gumdrops and old linen. He smelled clean and inoffensive; not at all like the sweaty, blood-soaked mess he was when they met. He had smelled like copper and musk. But he was a different man then.

So was Jim.

It took a long time for reality to settle back in when they finally pulled away from each other to breathe, though they kept close enough to feel the other’s breath on their face. Jim swore he could just have this and be content; Oswald’s stunned silence and the knowledge that he had been the catalyst in this phenomenon.

Then came the sounds of phones and printers and chattering officers. It hit Jim like a hammer; he’d just grabbed and kissed one of Gotham’s most active mob members in front of the entire GCPD.

And yet, no one cared.

No one had so much glanced at them in that 5-10 second interval. Not even Ed or Harvey, one of which was usually hovering around him. No one saw. No one _cared_. Jim ended up shoving Oswald back a few inches and schooling his features back to annoyance and anger. Oswald just patted his jacket down, smoothing away the wrinkles from Jim’s strong grip.

“... We’ll be in touch, Cobblepot.”

Oswald nodded and turned to go, if only to hide his self-satisfied smile.

 

End.


End file.
